


Watch Me Watch You

by iwillgodownwiththisship84



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, US Open, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 12:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillgodownwiththisship84/pseuds/iwillgodownwiththisship84
Summary: Roger decides to visit Rafa during the US Open...





	Watch Me Watch You

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this during last year’s USO, but fell victim to writer’s block so I’ve only just managed to finish it - it’s therefore now set during this year’s tournament.
> 
> Set in the same non-canon universe as ‘Breakfast In Bed’ and ‘Heatwave’.

The lift doors opened onto the forty-second floor and Roger Federer stepped out onto the plush carpeting of the hotel corridor.

It was thankfully empty, not that it would be much of a concern if he was spotted - even though he wasn’t staying at the Midtown establishment, it was one of the popular choices of accommodation for several players on the tour during this particular fortnight in the calendar, to the point that the staff and other patrons now barely batted an eyelid when encountering one of them.

Reaching the door to suite 4208, he pulled a keycard from the pocket of his white jeans - the same card which had been left for him in a sealed envelope at the reception desk at Flushing Meadows. Sliding it into the scanner, he waited for the green light and then opened the door.

The entrance foyer led to a spacious living area and as always he felt strangely comforted by the familiar untidiness of the room - empty Coca Cola bottles on various surfaces, an open racquet bag propped against one of the dining chairs, and several pairs of shoes and items of clothing strewn about.

The door to the bedroom was ajar and Roger pushed it open, coming to a standstill when his eyes landed on the bed in the middle of the room.

Rafael Nadal was lying naked in the centre of the mattress, the white sheets a perfect foil to miles of golden skin. His legs were spread and the right one drawn up to his chest, offering an enticing view of his arse and the two fingers he was sliding in and out of it, his other hand wrapped around his hard cock.

Having struggled to keep his own half-hard dick in check ever since he’d impulsively instructed his driver to drop him at Rafa’s hotel, Roger abruptly lost any semblance of control at the tableau before him, the blood rushing to his cock so quickly, he felt momentarily lightheaded.

An audible curse slipped from his lips and Rafa’s eyes flew open, widening when he saw Roger standing there, and both hands pausing in their motions.

“Fuck, don’t stop, baby...” Roger begged him as he moved closer, tearing off his grey sweater while toeing off his shoes. “Want to watch you...”

He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down, kicking them off along with his underwear and removing his watch, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed. Biting his lip, Rafa pressed his fingers deep, his gasp indicating that he’d found his prostate and a bead of pre-come forming at the head of his cock.

“Roger...” he whimpered.

“I know, baby, I know.” Roger joined him on the bed, stretching out beside him and lazily fisting his own cock while his eyes swept over Rafa, from his half-lidded gaze, and the flush and perspiration stealing over his skin, to the fitful motion of his hips as if he was torn between thrusting forward into his hand and pushing back onto his fingers. “Fuck, Raf...look at you...”

The Spaniard’s gaze kept flicking across the room and following his line of sight Roger saw that the television mounted on the opposite wall was on and showing a tennis match. The volume was turned down low, so it took him a moment to realise it was actually the highlights from his semi-final victory over Novak from a few hours earlier, and he was immediately reminded of the time Rafa had blushingly admitted to getting turned on by watching Roger play.

“Oh, you naughty boy...” he murmured. “You like to watch too, huh?”

“_Sí_, _sí_...you so _agresivo_...so hot...”

His defeat of the World No. 1 had not been the expected result, especially after their last match in the final at Wimbledon, followed by his disappointing upset by Rublev in the third round at Cincinnati. Consequently most sports journalists had not only anticipated a Djokovic-Nadal final at Arthur Ashe on Sunday but yet another Slam title for the Serb. And perhaps that lack of expectation had worked in his favour, neutralising any pressure he might have felt and allowing him to just enjoy the match and to play his best offensive tennis with the favourite weapons from his arsenal.

On the other hand, he’d definitely felt a stronger desire to win than in previous matches, perhaps buoyed by the prospect of finally getting to play Rafa in New York, and in the final no less.

The man in question let out a strangled moan as Roger’s televised self hit a delicious skyhook smash on set point.

“You like that, baby, yeah?” he pressed. “Are you close?”

“_Sí_...so close...”

Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and Roger reached out to brush back his damp hair and press his lips there, then at the corner of his panting mouth, and at the spot just beneath his ear, muttering words of encouragement. Rafa responded with a stream of Spanish, his hands now pretty much a blur, and he looked so fucking beautiful as he chased down his orgasm.

“_Hostia puta_...Roger..._fotre_...”

Watching Rafa like this, deep in the throes of his own pleasure, was definitely one of Roger’s favourite things. His eyes were dark and glassy, almost as if he wasn’t even in the room anymore, and his legs were beginning to tremble. He dug his heels into the bed and arched his hips, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

The climax ripped through him with all the power of his trademark forehand down-the-line and Roger had to tightly grip himself to stave off his own orgasm, as Rafa continued to fist his cock through it, his come landing in multiple stripes across his abs.

He drank in this final scene as he watched Rafa slowly come down, his spent body still twitching for several moments afterward. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed some tissues to clean up his lover, nipping gently at Rafa’s neck and then repositioning himself so he could reach his mouth. They both moaned into that first proper kiss and Roger’s still hard cock rubbed against Rafa’s thigh, his leaking pre-come easing the friction.

“Mmmm...that was so hot, Raf...” he breathed against the Spaniard’s lips, swallowing his gasp as he slid a hand over his perfect arse and his fingers dipped between the cheeks to swipe over his wet entrance. “Want to fuck you, baby...can I, please?”

Rafa moaned his agreement, his legs instinctively spreading and his breath catching as Roger’s fingers slipped inside him, where he was scorching hot and still slick with lube, finding his prostate with the ease of someone who knew every delectable square inch of his lover’s body, and the Spaniard shivering at the touch, still sensitive so soon after his orgasm.

It wouldn’t take much for him to be ready for Roger’s cock, the memory of watching Rafa fingering himself still fresh in his mind. He pressed in another of his own fingers alongside the first two, scissoring them, and cursing softly when he saw that Rafa was already getting hard again. Shifting into a kneeling position between the splay of his muscled thighs, Roger reached out to run his free hand possessively down the centre of his body.

The thrill of being able to touch him had only intensified in the two years since that first time in Prague, although the opportunities they had to be alone together were maddeningly infrequent, even when they were in the same place at the same time. And Rafa could be shameless when he wanted to tease him, those skimpy shorts he now favoured clinging to his arse in a way that made Roger’s hands itch. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been reduced to jerking off in the locker room shower after they‘d been scheduled to practice on neighbouring courts. Not tonight though - tonight he wasn’t planning on coming anywhere but balls deep inside the exquisite tightness currently surrounding his fingers.

Rafa abruptly reached out, his hand clutching at Roger’s, drawing his eyes to his dilated gaze and quivering body.

“Roger..._por favor_...is enough..._te necesito_...”

He’d never been able to resist Rafa when he started begging. Easing his fingers out, he snatched up the lube that was half-buried in the rumpled sheets and squeezed a generous amount into his hand, before curling it around his desperately hard cock, his whole body tightening in anticipation.

It felt like months rather than weeks since the last time they were together, his mind briefly flashing back to a memorable Sunday afternoon spent at his rented house in Wimbledon just before the start of the tournament, while Mirka and the children were at the zoo - they’d fucked for hours, as always feeling like they were on borrowed time, and two days later Roger still had trouble getting his legs to move when he’d played his first round match against Lloyd Harris.

He definitely didn’t want a repeat of that on Sunday or to have to face the wrath of Charly if Rafa’s knees were anything other than one hundred percent functional.

Both their teams were frank in their disapproval of them ‘fraternising’ during a tournament, especially when they were this deep. Luckily he and Rafa had had plenty of hands-on experience in how to mind their bodies’ more delicate parts.

He leaned down, his mouth hovering over Rafa’s and his hands curling around his hips.

“Roll over for me, baby...”

The Spaniard was quick to comply, letting out a stifled gasp as his needy cock came into contact with the sheets, and Roger reaching across the king size bed to grab a spare pillow and slide it under his knees. His eyes immediately zeroed in on Rafa’s delectable arse, his hands gripping the cheeks and spreading them apart to reveal his lush, pink entrance.

Taking hold of himself again, he rubbed the head of his cock against the puckered opening, earning him a beyond desperate whine from Rafa, before he pressed forward into the clutch of his tight, sucking heat with a drawn-out groan. For all his past experience, the memory of being inside Rafa always grossly paled in comparison to the exquisite reality.

He tried to take it slow, pulling out almost completely and then thrusting back in, but when Rafa began pushing back on him, his muscles nearly strangling Roger’s cock, he became incapable of doing anything but driving into him hard and fast and deep, the hottest sounds spilling out of the Spaniard with every snap of his hips.

“Fuck, Raf...is that good, baby? Tell me how it feels...”

Rafa’s fingers were twisted in the sheets on either side of him. “_Es bueno_...” he whimpered. “So good, Roger, _por favor_...”

Roger slid one hand from his hips to part his cheeks again, his eyes glazing over and his balls tightening at the sight of his stretched rim.

“Yeah, I know, baby...fuck, if you could see what you look like taking my cock...”

He shifted his stance, encouraging Rafa to raise his hips and urging his upper body closer to the mattress, allowing him to slide even deeper and creating the perfect angle to target his prostrate, until he was catching that sweet spot on every thrust and the Spaniard’s legs were starting to shake.

He could feel his own control hanging by a thread and knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially with Rafa being so damn responsive, his moans turning into delirious cries which he was attempting to muffle with a pillow.

“Don’t, baby,” Roger leaned closer, chiding him softly. “I want to hear you...I want everyone to hear how much you love this...”

Rafa keened in response, tightening around him and making him grit his teeth as he felt the tell-tale throb beginning - in actuality he’d been ready to come since the moment he’d walked into the room and seen Rafa drawing pleasure from his own hands.

Words were pouring from the Spaniard’s lips in his native tongue, but Roger only recognised two of them. “_Por favor_..._por favor_...”

He gripped Rafa’s hips, his own moving like quicksilver. “Please what?” he coaxed. “You want to come, baby?”

Even as Rafa was nodding, Roger was sliding his right hand underneath him and around his leaking cock, palming it quickly and purposefully. Tremors were coursing through them both and Rafa was all but sobbing against the acute pleasure, the combination of Roger’s cock and his callused hand catapulting him over the edge and into the abyss. Feeling the hot, wet spurt of Rafa’s come covering his fingers, Roger directed another couple of jagged thrusts into his pulsing hole, before his own orgasm took hold and he came hard, Rafa’s arse milking his cock until he was spent.

He fought to catch his breath, his heart racing like he’d just won match point on a thirty shot rally. He managed to keep his balance long enough to slowly pull out, his cock giving a valiant twitch when it was followed by the trickle of his own seed.

Collapsing on his side next to Rafa, he dragged the Spaniard back against him, enjoying the always beautiful sight of his lover post-coitus, his eyes half-closed as the natural lethargy set in. Aware that his hand was still covered in come, he brought it to his mouth to lick it clean, hearing Rafa groan and meeting his heavy-lidded gaze.

“Mmm...you taste good, baby...come here..”

He cupped Rafa’s face with his other hand, bringing their lips together and sliding his tongue inside briefly before pulling back and rubbing his nose against the Spaniard’s like an Eskimo.

As incredible as the sex always was between them - and ‘incredible’ really was an understatement - it was the strength of his love for Rafa that often amazed him more. It was what made it easier to deal with the obstacles they faced in their relationship, the necessary secrecy and having to spend so much time apart. None of that mattered compared with the fact that he was finally allowed _this_, finally allowed to love Rafa without reservation, after years of poorly disguised lust and the guilt they’d both carried over hurting the women they’d once loved and still cared for.

Wondering what the time was, he reached for his watch. It had been just after ten when he’d left the stadium and it was now close to midnight. He’d need to return to his own hotel soon or Mirka would start to worry - they might not sleep in the same bed anymore, but they still shared a suite whenever she and the children travelled with him on the tour. As much as he wanted to spend the night with Rafa, he liked being there when the kids woke up in the morning.

“You are needing to go.” It wasn’t a question - too many nights had ended the same way.

“I can stay a little longer,” Roger decided.

He was unlikely to see much of Rafa tomorrow - they’d both be spending a few hours on the practice courts but it wouldn’t make any sense for them to be training in view of the other. He’d not yet lined up a hitting partner, though there weren’t many players left in the city with the tournament nearly over and he’d already jokingly lamented that it was nigh impossible to find someone who could replicate Rafa’s game in its entirety.

It would be an epic final whomever the victor and for Roger just getting to play Rafa, which was both a fear and a joy, would make any outcome worth it. Even if he was the one holding the runner’s-up plate come Sunday.

And after this weekend, they had the Laver Cup to look forward to. He thought of the hotel where he and the other members of Team Europe would be staying and the penthouse suite he’d reserved. He had firm plans to fuck Rafa on every available surface of that suite.

He looked down at his lover, seeing his eyes were closed and hearing the cute little snuffle he always made when he slept. It was a warm night so he simply dragged the top sheet up over them, aware as he stifled a yawn and his eyes began to grow heavy that he was only delaying the inevitable.

_Just a little longer_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - kudos and comments are always appreciated!


End file.
